


Ship Sailing Monday Drabbles

by TheFairestOfTheRare



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-04
Updated: 2018-09-25
Packaged: 2019-06-21 19:34:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15564924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFairestOfTheRare/pseuds/TheFairestOfTheRare
Summary: A place for all my Ship Sailing Monday prompt drabbles, hosted by the Fairest of the Rare Facebook page...you should check them out, it's a pretty fab place.





	1. Movie Star - RonxPansy

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: "Do these sunglasses say ‘I’m a movie star’ or ‘I’m hiding my dark circles because I’m perpetually tired’?”

 

 

 

 

“Do these sunglasses say ‘I’m a movie star’, or ‘I’m hiding my dark circles because I’m perpetually tired’? 

 

He blinked, rather stupidly, at the question. It wasn’t, he realised now, whether or not they made her resemble a movie star, whatever one of those was, that needed answered. “Why are you wearing sunglasses? It’s midnight,” he added, his freckled nose scrunched in confusion. 

 

“ _ Because, _ ” her reply was said in an annoyingly slowed down tone, as though it ought to have been obvious why one would be wearing sunglasses at such an hour, in a permanently darkened alcove of an even darker corridor,  “they make me look like a movie star... _ and _ hide how tired I am, it’s a win-win situation.”

 

“What even is a movie star?”

 

“No idea, I overheard someone say it and feel it describes me well though, don’t you think?”

 

“Umm…”

 

“Exactly.” Pansy’s reply was said in such a matter-of-fact manner that Ron didn’t bother to press the matter further, he knew only too well that the time they had remaining was dwindling, and that he did not wish to spend it arguing semantics over how much sense it made to adopt the title of a subject, when that subject was a mystery. He had a  _ much  _ better idea for how the rest of their evening should go.

 

“Hmmm.” He grinned at the sound, knowing the feeling of his lips against her neck was the cause. 

 

“Stop smirking, it doesn’t become you,” she snapped, only making him grin further as his hands tousled their way through her long dark hair.

 

“ _ Doesn’t become you,”  _ he repeated, his tone mocking, you sound like my Aunt Muriel. 

 

“And yet,” he let out a hiss as her hips unexpectedly arched forward, “you’re  _ incredibly  _ turned on from what I can feel. Your Aunt Muriel? What an odd fetish indeed.

 

“Yeah, old deceased relatives are what get me going, that explains why your cold, dead heart attracted me.”

 

“I’m sure that’s what it was...my  _ heart. _ ”

 

He kissed her, hard, before replying. “Well, not straight away, no.”

 

* * *

 

“Hermione?” 

 

“Hmm?”

 

“What’s an oovie star?”

 

Hermione’s slowly raised eyebrow was the only thing that indicated she had heard him, her head refusing to shift position as her eyes poured left and right over the page of a very large book that was located between the friends. “A what, now?”

 

“An oovie star,” Ron repeated. 

 

Hermione’s eyes rose to meet his, blinking, as though he’d asked something ridiculous, which, for all he knew, he had. “A  _ movie  _ star tends to be an overly dramatic, self centred rich person who knows not what hard work would look like if it punched them in the nose.”

 

“Oh, th-thanks.”

 

“You’re welcome,” Hermione replied, pupils already back to zooming across the old page. 

 

_ That does actually suit her. _

 

* * *

 

It was hard, this not allowing his eyes to wander business, especially when she was stood  _ right there,  _ wearing  _ that  _ skirt, paired with  _ that  _ shirt and...the same bloody sunglasses. At least the time of day it made a modicum of sense for her to wear them, the torrential rain he could see out a nearby window didn’t, but who was he to argue. Especially since the perpetual tiredness she had mentioned was almost entirely his doing. 

 

He, Harry and Hermione were ushered further up the corridor, towards the classroom door they were waiting on opening, and Pansy, who was entirely better at ignoring Ron’s very presence than he was at ignoring hers. It pained and turned him on in equal measure. 

 

“-movie star, I think it describes me very well-”

 

He didn’t hear the rest, a pounding in his ears having overtaken all other noise as he did everything to fervently avoid a pair of brown, bushy, and currently very raised, eyebrows, the eyes they belonged to wide and staring at him. 

 

Luckily, at that point, the door to the classroom opened and, most uncharacteristically, Ron eagerly began to walk forwards, desperate to avoid Hermione. 

 

Despite his best efforts, however, and even with the pounding, he couldn’t avert his attention from the hissed ‘ _ I knew it!’  _ that echoed from behind him. 

  
_ Oh, this is going to be bad.  _


	2. Mr Bartholomew’s Magical Fawlty Towers | PansyxRon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: “Can’t someone have normal problems here? Instead, it’s, ‘oops I raised the dead’ or ‘I accidentally turned someone into a vampire’ or ‘uh-oh there is a demon in my room’.”

“Why did we agree to this?!”

 

She raised one perfectly shaped eyebrow. “We?”

 

“You know what I mean.”

 

She opted not to reply, instead surveying him with a long, hard stare. 

 

“I mean,” he continued, all erratic arm movements and thumping steps, “it’s  _ hardly  _ the relaxing escape that Harry promised, is it?”

 

Pansy sighed deeply through her nose. “No, it isn’t.”

  
  
“ _ Idyllic country escape _ , my left arse cheek.” 

 

This time, Pansy’s sigh was louder than before.

 

“What?” Ron asked bluntly. 

 

“If you,” Pansy’s tone was much calmer than she felt inside. “Don’t stop moaning, Ronald Weasley, I will take this wand,” she held the offending instrument aloft, “and ram it so far up somewhere that even the  _ healing, country  _ air that your sister went on about won’t have a hope in hell of touching it.” She held up a hand to silence whichever words Ron had planned to respond with. “Do I make myself clear?”

 

“But it-“

 

“Do I make. Myself. Clear?”

 

“Yes.” 

 

“Good. Now at the very, very least I might get some fucking peace and quiet. Where’d I leave my-“

 

A loud banging from somewhere a room somewhere left of their own room startled the couple and cut Pansy’s question in half. The noise, as it happened, was apparently enough to strip away the dwindling remains of her resolve. 

 

“FOR FUCK’S SAKE!” 

 

From that moment a certain amount of commotion could be heard from outside their door. 

 

“Mustn’t approach-“

 

“Sir! Sir! It’s Al-Alan!” 

 

“What happened?! Basil? BASIL!”

 

Pansy rounded on Ron. “Are these clowns for real? AGAIN?!”

 

“ALAN!” 

 

Ron raised both eyebrows as he surveyed his girlfriend, contrary to his previous outburst, with a hint of laughter present upon his pale face. “Why are we still here?” 

 

For a small second, she simply glared, until a further bang and a muffled, ‘ALAN NO! YOU’VE RAISED ANOTHER DEAD BODY!’ was enough for her to join in her boyfriend’s momentary amusement. 

 

Stifling a laugh, Pansy purses her lips together as they continued to listen to Mr Bartholomew, Basil and Alan apparently wrangle a zombie of some kind. 

 

“Can’t someone have normal problems here?” Ron mused, between laughs. “Instead, it’s, ‘Oops I raised the dead’ or ‘I accidentally turned someone into a vampire’ or ‘uh-oh there is a demon in my room’.”

 

“Don’t be preposterous darling,” Pansy replied, her voice rife with feigned seriousness. “Bartholomew wouldn’t know what to do with a  _ normal problem  _ if it punched him in the face.”

 

A loud shout sounded, further away this time. “AGHHH!” They heard Basil, Mr Bartholomew’s hapless assistant cry. 

 

“To be fair,” Ron began, “he doesn’t know what to do with the abnormal problems he does have. And that zombie is probably trying to do a lot worse than punch him in the face.” 

 

“True. We  _ could  _ leave, you know. I know you want to be there through Potter’s mid-twenties crisis-“ 

 

“That’s a tad harsh, he just-“

 

“Oh, don’t sugar coat it, I know he’s your best friend but even suggesting we all stay at this madhouse can  _ only _ stem from a crisis of some kind.” 

 

Basil shouted again, and Ron couldn’t quite bring himself to disagree with Pansy.  _ She has a point _ , he thought as he stared around the decrepit, dank bedroom they had been allocated upon arrival. 

 

“ _ Should  _ we leave?” Ron asked, honestly not knowing the answer himself. 

 

“I think,” Pansy mused, “we should stick it out.” 

 

“Really?!” 

 

“BASIL STAY AWAY FROM THE HEAD, SAME AS LAST TIME! ATTA BOY!”

 

Pansy’s eyes met Ron’s as they began to collectively giggle again. “Why the hell not.” 

  
  
  



End file.
